


An Angel's Temptation

by summerofspock



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Crowley teaches Aziraphale how to sex, Cunnilingus, Demisexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Edwardian Period, Except not with crowley, Experienced Crowley (Good Omens), F/M, Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Hand Jobs, Humor, Jealous Crowley (Good Omens), Kissing, Minor aziraphale/other, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Porn With Plot, Rimming, Romance Novel, Sex repulsed aziraphale, She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Tropes, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Virgin Aziraphale (Good Omens), but plot that facilitates porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:28:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23283268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/pseuds/summerofspock
Summary: When Heaven assigns Aziraphale a seduction (in not so many words), his attempts at research only serve to disturb him. So when Crowley offers to personalize his learning experience, Aziraphale jumps at the chance, not realizing how quickly he'll get in over his head.Because all that stuff he found disgusting in his research? It turns out it's pretty good when he's doing it with Crowley.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 286
Kudos: 1323
Collections: Aziraphale/Crowley Smut Library, Ixnael’s Recommendations





	1. Lesson One

**Author's Note:**

> beta'ed by [poetic_nonsense](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetic_nonsense/pseuds/poetic_nonsense)
> 
> this fic is ridiculous and mostly exists because i wanted to throw a middle finger to heterosexual romance novel "the experienced man teaches the blushing female heroine how to have sex" tropes  
> therefore the plot is flimsy and the porn is bountiful
> 
> please enjoy my spite but please read the tags because this might not be everyone's scene
> 
> excerpt is from Fanny Hill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been affectionately thinking of Crowley in this fic as "pocket Crowley" wherein she has changed her corporation to be smaller and is therefore "pocket-sized." This image makes me very happy. If you'd like to see almost exactly what I'm picturing re: body type, please see [gingerhaole's amazing art of Crowley in lingerie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20531924/chapters/48732878) (nsfw). It is entirely unrelated to this fic but absolutely inspiring regardless.

_1908_

"Gabriel, I'm not sure that's a very good idea," Aziraphale said, wringing his hands.

Gabriel looked at him, unimpressed. "I don't see why. It's just like any of your other assignments. We need to set a human on the right path."

"I understand that,'' Aziraphale said, a note of pleading in his voice. "But... _seduction_. That doesn't feel very angelic."

Gabriel's eyebrows rose. "Are you questioning the Plan, Aziraphale?"

"N-no, of course not, it's just—"

"You really have slipped since you opened up that little bookshop of yours. Are you sure it isn't too much of a distraction? Your last three assignments were mediocre at best."

Aziraphale swallowed thickly. Was his bow tie too tight?

"Right, yes, certainly. I'll do my best,``Aziraphale said, falsely chipper.

"I'm certain you will," Gabriel said with an equally false smile.

And that, as they say, was that.

* * *

Lady Amelia Pevensey was the daughter of an earl. She was in love with a man below her station who Heaven knew would prevent her from reaching her full potential as a philanthropist of nearly legendary proportions.

Heaven wanted Aziraphale to distract her. They wanted him to do this by gaining her affections. She was already having intercourse with the young man which meant Aziraphale had to - Gabriel's words had been _be prepared for any eventuality_.

A seduction, in not so many words.

But Gabriel hadn't been exaggerating about the poor quality of his work. Ever since his fight with Crowley about the holy water, things had been off. Aziraphale's miracles had been lackluster and half-hearted. Loath as he was to admit it, he missed Crowley. They’d been _friends_. Crowley was his only true friend really. The only one who understood him. Seeing Crowley every few years and exchanging a handful of terse words was nothing like their relationship used to be.

He was feeling rather melancholy about it all. And now _this_.

Truly a wretched start to the 20th century.

* * *

_As he stood on one side, for a minute or so, unbuttoning his waist-coat and breeches, her fat, brawny thighs hung down, and the whole greasy landscape lay fairly open to my view; a wide open-mouth'd gap, overshaded with a grizzly bush, seemed held out like a beggar's wallet for its provision_

Aziraphale gasped and slammed the book shut. _Beggar’s wallet._ Really? How awful.

He was trying his best to be prepared here. He had already managed to acquire an invitation to a ball he knew Lady Amelia and her father would be attending that evening.

And now he was trying to... research.

Reading about courting etiquette and romance was one thing but seduction was an entirely separate and much more terrifying matter.

Aziraphale had reviewed anatomical diagrams, which were rather informative but entirely clinical. That was fine. Educational. But when he moved on to erotic writing, he found the content turned his stomach. It all sounded ludicrously messy and often outright disgusting.

Sighing—he wasn’t going to get any further with this today—he took himself upstairs to get ready for an evening of revelry. It was going to be a long, exhausting night.

Whatever expectations he’d had turned to dust when he walked into the ballroom. What he saw on the dance floor made his thoughts and worries grind to a stop.

Crowley.

Crowley in beaded black harem pants and a silky draped tunic, long red hair piled loosely atop her head.

He knew Crowley was fond of playing with the human concept of gender. She liked switching her pronouns with her mode of dress, which she changed a great deal more than Aziraphale. They’d both occasionally been given assignments where being perceived as a woman was necessary. But those had been few and far between for Aziraphale.

Most often she simply changed how she dressed but on occasion she shifted the form of her corporation, adding the flair of hips, the small curve of breasts, jaw growing smaller, lips fuller.

It seemed this was one of those times.

Crowley's sudden appearance had Aziraphale’s stomach fluttering with nerves. Was she going to come speak with him? He shouldn't want her attention as much as he did. Shouldn't miss her at all.

Only moments after the song ended, Crowley’s eyes alit on him, a slow smile breaking across her face as she drifted through the crowd.

“Angel,” she said with a sly grin. “It’s been a while.”

Aziraphale had trouble finding his voice. He usually did when first confronted with Crowley. Surely a response to her wiles. Surely.

“I suppose it has,” he managed finally, and for some reason that made Crowley smile wider.

“What brings you into the great wide world?” Crowley asked, gesturing around her at the revelry.

Aziraphale wanted to protest the implication. He lived in the world. It was only that she wasn’t exactly incorrect. He did prefer the company of his books, and he rarely ventured anywhere where he might see more than ten people at a time.

He was ready to toss a jibe back, perhaps fall into their old playful banter, but the crowd parted and Aziraphale spied Lord Pevensey. Unfortunate timing. He’d just been starting to enjoy himself.

“An assignment, Crowley, now if you’ll excuse me,” Aziraphale said, bowing his head. He had introductions he needed to make and a lady to woo.

Nausea flared in his stomach at the thought.

“Well alright then,” Crowley said from behind him, sounding peeved.

Finding Lord Pevensey was not difficult. Gaining his attention was a trifle harder. It seemed everyone wanted to bend the lord's ear and by the time Aziraphale had sidled close enough the man was obviously exhausted.

"Quite an affair," Aziraphale said casually. Lord pevensey looked at him with evident exhaustion.

"Quite," he said and then he took a sip of his drink.

"Balls are all well and good, but they can be very exhausting, don't you think?" Aziraphale asked, hoping a little sympathy might do the trick. "I’d much rather be home with a good book, but alas, I can’t sequester myself forever or risk being a bachelor all my life."

Pevensey’s eyes turned keen and he looked Aziraphale up and down. "What’s your name young man?"

Aziraphale bit back a snort at _young man_. "Aziraphale Fell, sir. And you’re Lord Pevensey of course."

"Are you a tradesman?"

"Bookseller, actually. For pleasure. I must fill my time somehow."

Pevenseys mouth parted on an understanding ‘ah.’

He turned and called "Amelia!" and a pretty woman with black hair appeared at his elbow. She was around 20 years of age and dressed fashionably in a blue evening gown which emphasized her bosom and hips. If Aziraphale even remotely knew what it was like to experience attraction to someone, he thought she might be a good choice.

"Yes, father?"

"This is Mr. Fell. A bookseller. Mr. Fell, this is my daughter Amelia. I believe you might have some things in common."

With that abrupt pronouncement, Pevensey strode away, leaving Aziraphale in a bit of a shock.

Amelia laughed when she noticed Aziraphale’s expression. "You must pardon my father. As you see, he’s quite desperate to see me married. I’m quite sure I’ve been introduced to every single man at this ball."

"Oh dear, that sounds rather tiring," Aziraphale said with a grimace.

Amelia gave him a smile that looked somewhat genuine. "You seem nice at least. Some men really are scoundrels."

"I like to think I have _some_ manners," Aziraphale said. What sort of terrible men must Amelia have dealt with? The poor girl.

He supposed he shouldn’t be feeling sorry for her if he was trying to seduce her. That didn’t seem correct at all.

Not that Aziraphale had the faintest idea what he was meant to be doing.

Amelia grinned and Aziraphale realized that he did find her rather pretty. That ought to be a start, didn’t it? "Well, it was lovely to meet you, Mr. Fell. Perhaps I'll see you again soon? I’m sure my father will assume our little chat means a great deal for our future and he’ll send you an invite to some soiree he’ll hate throwing."

Aziraphale couldn’t have helped a laugh if he’d tried. Amelia was pleasant. What a relief. He reached out and touched the back of her gloved hand—that was right, wasn’t it? To show interest? “It was very lovely meeting you.”

Amelia looked down at her hand in surprise and then back at him. “Lovely indeed,” she said, and she sounded intrigued. It sat funny in Aziraphale’s stomach.

Aziraphale bit his lip as he watched her drift away into the crowd. This was miserable.

“Aziraphale, _what_ are you doing?” Crowley hissed as she yanked him back by the elbow.

Aziraphale extricated himself from Crowley’s grasp with a sniff. “I am trying to complete an assignment.”

“By causing a scandal, what on earth—” Crowley tossed back her head and groaned as if Aziraphale was the most grossly incompetent person she had ever met.

“I’ve been sent to court Lady Amelia, if you absolutely must know,” Aziraphale admitted, face growing hot with embarrassment. “I’m finding a bit more difficult than I anticipated.”

“ _Court_ someone? Woah, woah, woah—if that’s the case, you’re doing it _all_ wrong.”

“Excuse me, I read several books on wooing—”

“You can’t learn it in _books_ ,” Crowley hissed. “Come here.”

Crowley grabbed his elbow and dragged him out of the room and down a hallway into some sort of study.

“Since when does Heaven send angels to _court_ humans?” Crowley demanded, immediately raising Aziraphale’s hackles.

“It’s a unique situation,” Aziraphale huffed and Crowley rolled her eyes dramatically, an expression that was evident even through her dark glasses.

“Next you’ll be telling me they want you to seduce someone,” she scoffed.

Aziraphale bit his lip.

She gaped. “What? Oh—oh no. Really? Heaven? _You_?”

Aziraphale grimaced. “Quite. It’s rather distasteful, if I’m being entirely honest.”

Crowley ran a hand over her face and started to pace. She paused by the window and the moonlight made her pale. Almost ghostly. “Aziraphalr, you can’t...you’ve never… I can take this one, angel. If you need. The Arrangement…” Crowley offered, turning back to look at him.

“I can’t ask you to do that, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, sitting up straight as his gut roiled in response to the image of Crowley kissing Lady Amelia, putting her hands on her. It made him feel even worse than imagining doing the deed himself. He shouldn’t have brought this up with Crowley. “It’s unconscionable to pass something like this off to you.”

"The thought of you—with a human...it’s just not...let me help,” Crowley said emphatically. She seemed to be having trouble with the topic. It was somewhat comforting to finally not feel so alone in this. "I’ve done seductions before. It'll be a piece of cake."

Aziraphale realized suddenly that he’d been going about this all wrong. Aziraphale hadn’t found his books helpful. At best they were unnerving, diagrams and clinical words swirling in his head. What he needed was a personal explanation, and Crowley had the experience he needed.

“If you’ve...if you’ve done this before, perhaps you could...I don't know. Explain the mechanics to me?" Aziraphale asked, cheeks growing hot. "I’d like to know what I'm getting into. If I mess up another assignment, I'm not sure what Heaven will do. I’m simply worried I’ll get to...the main event—so to speak—and have no idea what to do."

A long moment passed, in which Crowley stared at him from across the library before something complex—concern? Resignation?—passed over her face. When she moved towards him, it was with all the smooth sensuality of a snake. Sinuous and lithe, her harem pants rustling as she drew closer.

"You want a tutorial?" Crowley asked, clicking the t’s between her teeth. She smirked at him, and the expression had an edge of wickedness that Aziraphale hadn’t seen on her face in a long time.

"If you wouldn’t mind," Aziraphale said, with a swallow. He should trust Crowley in this. She’d said it herself. She’d done seductions. She knew all about the giving and receiving of human pleasures. “I’ve found my readings to be rather useless.”

Crowley walked towards him, almost prowling. Aziraphale felt cornered, his stomach swooping with something like fear. “You want me to teach you. How to seduce a lady,” Crowley said, each word dripping with temptation as Crowley continued her approach.

For a moment, Crowley seemed entirely the predator. It made Aziraphale’s heart rabbit in his chest. “Ye-yes. It’s—it would be ever so helpful.”

Crowley smirked, nostrils flaring. “I never thought I’d see the day when _you’d_ proposition _me_.”

She said it with the strangest emphasis. It was almost enough to distract Aziraphale from the meaning of her words.

“Proposition! I didn’t mean—”

“What were you looking for? A painstaking play by play explanation? I know you. The only way you’ll be alright with this is if you get firsthand experience.”

Aziraphale’s stomach was fluttering and twisting and he had no idea what to say.

“Look, do you trust me?” Crowley said, suddenly sounding tired.

Aziraphale nodded, against his better judgment.

“Then the offer’s on the table. Take it or leave it. Ciao, angel,” Crowley said dismissively before gliding out of the room.

* * *

A week later, Aziraphale looked at the invitation in his hands and then put it down by the till. It was exactly what he wanted. An invitation to the Pevensey’s. But just the thought of having to face Lady Amelia with the knowledge he was trying to seduce her was enough to make his palms sweat.

He thought about Crowley, her offer. Perhaps it was nerves, a lack of familiarity with this whole sexuality business that had Aziraphale so completely uncomfortable.

Perhaps Crowley had the right of it.

Hands-on experience.

* * *

When Crowley opened the door to her Mayfair flat, her eyes went wide behind her tinted lenses, wide enough that Aziraphale could see the golden rims of them.

“Aziraphale? What are you doing here?”

Aziraphale took off his hat and cradled it in his hands. “I’ve thought a bit more...about your proposal.”

For some reason, Aziraphale had expected that same cool response from Crowley that he’d gotten in the library but Crowley’s eyebrows shot up and the door creaked where she gripped the wood with white knuckles.

“What?”

“You said that you could teach me about...about…”

Crowley wrapped her hand around Aziraphale’s elbow and yanked him into her house. Turning on her heel, she marched through the hall and said over her shoulder, “I need a drink for this. We'll talk in my study.”

Aziraphale swallowed hard and trailed after her. Her hair was done up in a high bun, wisps falling over her neck, kissing the high collar of her black dress. She’d look like the most fashionable person at a funeral, if it wasn't for the ruby red lace that accented her waist and the hem of her skirt.

Once the door was shut behind them and Crowley was pressing a tumbler of scotch into his hand, he finally had the presence of mind to stammer out an apology. “I’m so sorry. I assumed the offer was still on the table. Of course, I would never pressure you or—”

Crowley waved her hand dismissively as she lowered herself into a wingback chair. “You’re shaking like a leaf, angel. Sit down. Have a drink.”

Aziraphale took a very ungentlemanly swig of whiskey and sat down across from Crowley. The liquor burned through his gut and settled the rioting in his ribcage.

“So you want to learn how to fuck?” Crowley said blithely.

Aziraphale choked on his second sip of whiskey.

Crowley raised an eyebrow, looking very nonchalant. But even Aziraphale could see a telltale tightness in her jaw. She was so good at that, pretending not to care. Aziraphale wished he had even a modicum of her talent for duplicity.

“I offered and I meant it. But I sort of assumed you’d try your books again before even considering it.”

Aziraphale thought of the erotica he’d tried to read, full of euphemisms like truncheon and steed. And _thrusting_. He was going to have to do those things. Wasn’t it better to do them with Crowley?

“I did!” Aziraphale admitted. “All those diagrams were useless and the erotica...it was deeply disturbing.”

Crowley frowned. “Disturbing? What sort of erotica are you reading?”

“The normal sort,” Aziraphale said, a bit offended. He wasn’t some sort of deviant.

“So it doesn’t arouse you,” Crowley ventured. "And you’ve decided you want me to…”

“I’m just concerned that when—if the actual event arrives, I won’t be able to...perform the way I need to. I’m hoping a bit of practice will help me adjust.”

Crowley coughed and wheezed out, “A bit of practice.”

Aziraphale hesitated and then nodded as decisively as he knew how. With Heaven on his back about this assignment, he had to do it. He needed Crowley’s help.

And if a small part of him was feeling little thrills of something delicious, he decided he would firmly ignore it. This was just for educational purposes.

"Where were you thinking we'd start?" Crowley said easily, not looking at him directly.

Aziraphale's thoughts flopped about uselessly. Apparently, he hadn't thought that far ahead. "I suppose we could make some sort of curriculum."

"A curriculum," Crowley repeated dubiously.

"Well, you know, a list. That we can work through. Kissing, erogenous zones—"

"Kissing?" She slammed her tumbler down on the side table and demanded, "You've never kissed anyone?"

"Of course I've kissed people," Aziraphale said, bristling. "But it was always in greeting. Never with...intent."

Crowley put her face in her hands and then groaned. "Fuck. Alright. Lesson one then. Kissing."

Crowley slipped off her glasses and looked at him. Even without the barrier of her lenses, Aziraphale still couldn't read her expression. She frowned before slamming back the rest of her whiskey. Aziraphale followed suit. He felt much more relaxed after having Crowley actually agree to this horrid enterprise.

Aziraphale caught his breath as Crowley rose to her feet, crossing the spare distance between their chairs. He looked up at her, traced the fine bones of her face with his eyes. His stomach jumped again. Nerves.

Except nerves had never felt quite so exciting.

One hand came to grasp the back of the chair behind Aziraphale and the other cupped his jaw as Crowley leaned forward.

"Should I—do you—" Aziraphale babbled, heart rocketing between his throat and feet.

"Relax, angel," Crowley said, eyes darting over Aziraphale's face. "Just a bit of kissing."

Then Crowley's mouth was on his. She tasted of whisky and woodsmoke and Aziraphale gasped at the little shock of pleasure caused by the touch of her lips. It trembled down his spine and settled hot in his belly.

Crowley began to pull back but it was too fast, too soon, and Aziraphale chased her mouth as his hands came to rest on her waist.

She hummed against his lips and the sound was so pleasing, he nearly stood, the desire to pick her up and lay her across the closest flat surface momentarily overwhelming. But then Crowley's knee was beside his on the chair, nudging his legs together, and she was climbing on top of him. Into his lap.

His grip on her waist grew tight. He could feel the bones of her corset underneath the silky feel of her dress as she came to rest in his lap.

She did pull away, then, and Aziraphale had to bite back a noise of disappointment.

"Open your mouth," Crowley said, and Aziraphale frowned.

"Open my—like this?" Aziraphale opened his mouth wide and Crowley's face cracked into a grin.

"No, you idiot. Just—just relax your jaw. I'm going to put my tongue in your mouth."

Aziraphale made a face. "That doesn't sound very nice."

"Why don't you wait and see," Crowley retorted tartly before she leaned back down and captured Aziraphale’s mouth in another kiss.

It was much the same as the first, searing and stirring something needy inside Aziraphale—and then Crowley flicked her tongue over his bottom lip. The sensation was so new and intense that Aziraphale’s mouth parted on a gasp and then Crowley's tongue truly was in his mouth and it should have been alarming but…

He moaned and clutched Crowley closer, letting her swipe her tongue in his mouth as he tried to understand what sort of sorcery allowed kissing to feel that good.

When Crowley pulled back she was breathing hard. Aziraphale realized he was too.

"Good?" Crowley asked, more a squeak than a word.

Aziraphale nodded mutely, unable to do anything besides stare at Crowley who had somehow, alarmingly, made him understand why humans enjoyed this so much.

"Now, why don't you try to lead?" Crowley prompted, still close enough that Aziraphale could feel her warmth. His hands were still on her waist, loosely holding her in place.

Aziraphale hesitated. Was his heart supposed to be beating this hard? It surely couldn't be good for his corporation.

"Alright," he said before he leaned up and brushed his mouth over Crowley's once more. It was strange. She sat there passively, arms looped about his neck, responding to his kiss tentatively and not at all with the forcefulness of the last few minutes.

But he supposed that was the point.

Taking everything he'd just learned, he carefully licked the seam of Crowley lips and when they parted he slid his tongue inside. That same liquid fire coursed through him.

Aziraphale cupped the back of Crowley's head to hold her still as he chased the unique flavor of her mouth. In his arms, Crowley felt delicate, fine-boned and light. Crowley moaned softly and Aziraphale instinctively clutched her tighter.

Crowley pulled back, gasping. "Kiss my neck."

Aziraphale scrambled to obey as Crowley said, "Just beneath my jaw. A little teeth."

Aziraphale pressed feather light kisses beneath Crowley's ear. Her dress was high-necked so he couldn't reach much skin, but every time he pressed his lips back to her neck, she squirmed and made little sounds Aziraphale longed to hear more of.

He scraped his teeth over her pulse and Crowley’s hands shot into his hair as she ground down into his lap. He moaned at the sheer pleasure of the sudden friction and then clamped his mouth shut, slamming back against the chair.

Crowley’s hands fell from his hair and when Aziraphale looked at her, her mouth was slightly open, face pale with fetching pink stains high on her cheeks.

She frowned. "What happened?"

Aziraphale tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. "It’s just...my…" he glanced down. Crowley followed his gaze.

"Oh."

They sat in silence for a minute.

"You know that’s normal right?"

"Of course I do," Aziraphale snapped, growing more embarrassed by the second.

"If you lose it every time you get an erection, this is never going to work."

Aziraphale pursed his lips. "I’m well aware, thank you."

Moving slowly, so slowly that Aziraphale might not have noticed if Crowley weren’t so close he could feel every shift in her muscles, Crowley titled her hips back. The distribution of her weight was precarious enough that Aziraphale immediately grabbed her backside to hold her up. Crowley made a sound of surprise that was shot through with pleasure.

“Remind me that we should discuss the many uses of arses,” Crowley said, pushing back into his hands.

Aziraphale suddenly wanted to kiss her.

“But first, I think you might need to...adjust to some other things,” Crowley said and then her hand was between their bodies, skating over his stomach and coming to rest just above his erection. It bulged obscenely in his trousers and the sight of her hand, small and pale, next to it made Aziraphale shudder.

Then that hand was cupping him through the fabric and rubbing back and forth. His hips jerked, surprising him.

“I’m going to unbutton your trousers,” Crowley said quietly, slipping out of his lap and going to her knees in front of him. Aziraphale nodded, unable to speak as Crowley’s hands opened his trousers, pushing aside his flies and then unbuttoning his union suit.

Aziraphale realized he wasn’t breathing when his vision began to swim. Crowley’s hand was in his drawers, wrapping around his penis, pulling it out. Aziraphale had never even seen his penis—which he'd manifested several centuries ago for ornamental reasons—when it was erect. It was red, the foreskin pulled back over the exposed head which dripped with clear fluid.

“Look at you,” Crowley said, awe lacing her voice, moving her hand up and down tentatively. Aziraphale’s head slammed against the chair back as his hips lifted, pressing himself up into Crowley’s hand.

“Oh good lord, oh,” Aziraphale gasped as Crowley tightened her grip. His eyes drifted shut as sensations began to overwhelm him. It felt so good. Crowley felt so good. In the oddest way, Aziraphale felt safe and cared for even as the sensation of Crowley’s hand on him made his toes curl.

Crowley stopped moving her hand and clucked her tongue. “Nuh-uh. Eyes open, angel. We’re learning.”

As if through treacle, Aziraphale lifted his head slowly. His face was flaming. “Right. Yes. Learning,” he said. Or he hoped that’s what he said. He wasn’t feeling particularly confident in his ability to construct sentences at present.

“See, I’m going to help you now and then you’re going to go home and practice,” Crowley said, rising up on her knees and beginning to stroke him again. “You need to know what you like. So you can show me—her. Show _her_ what you like.”

Aziraphale watched the obscene slide of his penis through Crowley’s fist. She gathered the bead of liquid at the slit, thumbing the head and making him gasp. He certainly liked _that_.

Then Aziraphale had difficulty focusing at all, because Crowley was moving her hand, twisting slightly on the upstroke and bringing him closer to something wonderful and terrifying. He tried to watch, but his eyes kept drifting to her face. She looked lovely in her focus, eyes like daffodil petals, long lashes shading them.

Something tightened agonizingly in Aziraphale’s stomach and then snapped, pleasure rushing through him as he spilled over Crowley’s hand in thick pulses of white.

His chest was still heaving when Crowley snapped her fingers and he found himself clean and tucked away as if nothing had just happened. He was still swimming in the aftershocks of his orgasm. It made his whole body sing with pleasure. Pleasure he had found with Crowley. Why did the thought make him feel so utterly warm?

Crowley stood and took her glasses from the table, slipping them onto her nose before regarding him once more. She was twitching strangely, chin tilted up in a way that Aziraphale immediately marked as defensive. What she was defending against, he had no idea. Aziraphale certainly was in no shape to be a danger to her. His legs still felt like aspic. “That’s enough for one day, don’t you think?”

Aziraphale stood, still trembling, running a hand over the front of his waistcoat to steady himself. He could still taste Crowley’s mouth. Everything inside him was clamoring to kiss her again. Was this some sort of post-coital urge? He didn’t know. It seemed a poor idea regardless.

He gathered his gloves and hat from where he’d laid them on the table. His neck prickled. Was Crowley watching him? Why did he want her to be? Casting about for something polite to say, he asked, “You wouldn’t happen to be going to the Pevensey’s dinner party later this week?”

Crowley looked at him sharply, a strange curl to her mouth. “I have been invited, yes.”

Aziraphale’s stomach squirmed and he said, “Perhaps you could...observe my interactions with Amelia and give me feedback? A few pointers, if you will. I’m afraid I’m quite miserable at this.”

Crowley passed a hand over her mouth and looked away. “Sure, angel. Whatever you need.”

Aziraphale had a strange feeling that control was slipping out of his hands.


	2. Lesson Two

Aziraphale didn't know what he expected after the rather illuminating session with Crowley at her flat. But it certainly wasn't to receive a letter from Crowley two days later. He opened it with no little amount of trepidation, unable to find cause for the pattering of his heart.

_Angel,_

_I made your curriculum_. _See below._

  * _Kissing_
  * _Clothes removal_
  * _General touching_
  * _Backgammoning_
  * _Face jobs_
  * _Spoofing_
  * _Tipping the velvet_
  * _Jelly rolling_
  * _Good old-fashioned fucking_



_Don’t forget to masturbate like I told you to._

_Crowley_

Aziraphale read the list twice and his traitorous cheeks began to heat. What was this nonsense? Crowley was having him on.

He read the last sentence again and something stirred low in his belly. Unbidden, he thought about kissing Crowley, how good it had felt, how lovely Crowley's weight was in his lap.

_Oh dear._

He dropped the letter onto his desk and leaned back, feeling his breath pick up. If he was going to feel this way, perhaps it was the ideal time to complete his homework. So to speak.

He wished any of the erotica he read had made him feel this way. Why did he find the thought of Crowley so stimulating?

With shaking hands, he undid his trousers, reaching inside to palm over his half hard penis.

The texture of his union suit against the sensitive skin was too much, so he undid his buttons and took his penis directly in his hand. It was hotter than he had expected. Softer too, velvety and sensitive.

Aziraphale gasped as he moved his hand, playing with the head of his penis the way Crowley had.

The thought of Crowley had him throbbing in his hand. The way she had looked between his legs, so focused as she’d brought him pleasure. Her hand had felt so good. What would her mouth feel like—

"Oh heavens," Aziraphale gasped in surprise, spilling over his fist.

As he tried to slow his pulse, he miracled his hands clean. That little fantasy had certainly gotten out of hand. This whole enterprise was so Aziraphale could learn how to pleasure a woman. Not so Crowley could... _service_ him.

It had just been idle thoughts. Idle thoughts.

* * *

At the dinner party, Amelia was very polite to Aziraphale. Crowley had warned him about being too forward so he tried to be more careful. He attempted to spend a reasonable amount of time in her company but not too much. He didn’t want to cause a scandal.

Through what turned out to be surprisingly easy conversation, Aziraphale found out Amelia was fond of books and the theater. She was opinionated and quick-witted, and Aziraphale was actually disappointed when he realized he needed to leave the conversation or risk monopolizing her time.

“It was lovely to see you again, Miss Pevensey,” Aziraphale said with a small bow. He wondered if he should take her hand. They were both wearing gloves. Surely…

Amelia laid a hand on his arm and smiled. “The pleasure was mine, Mr. Fell. I’ll be certain to stop by your bookshop next time I’m in Soho. I would so love to see your collection.”

The minute he left her presence, Crowley appeared at his side, scowling deeply. She had a drink in her hand as she drawled, “How’d it go?”

Aziraphale worried his bottom lip. “Well, I think. She said she’d like to stop by my shop. It all seems so dreadfully slow. I wish I could just...you know. And have it done.”

Crowley hummed noncommittally, a disconsolate scowl still curling her mouth. “Not really how these upper-crusty humans do it, angel.”

“That is becoming distressingly clear,” Aziraphale said. He needed a drink. He also needed to write a preliminary report to Heaven. This was all quite miserable.

“If you play your cards right, you could probably snag a kiss when she stops by your shop. And then after that, well, it sounds like she has a bit of experience already.”

Nausea swiftly turned Aziraphale’s stomach. “Oh, dear. I’ve only just—you’ve only just—I don't even know what a vagina looks like!"

Crowley shushed him, hissing, “Shut up. Are you trying to get tossed out on your arse? You can’t just say _vagina_ in public, you numpty. When this is over, you can come to mine. We can continue...our lessons."

Aziraphale stared at her, stomach flipping and flopping. It was almost as if the concept excited him but that couldn't possibly be the case. Apparently misreading his confused expression, Crowley sucked on her teeth and shifted awkwardly.

"If you want," she added quickly.

Aziraphale tried to slow the beating of his heart and failed miserably. He remembered the taste of Crowley's kiss, the feel of her hands. His stomach lurched again. "How about I bring some wine? I think we could both use a proper drink."

* * *

When Aziraphale arrived at Crowley’s home, she showed him to her drawing room, where she poured them each a glass of wine.

It was a useless gesture. Aziraphale was far too nervous to drink it. He collapsed onto the chaise by the fire and sighed mournfully.

“Angel, I’m not going to eat you,” Crowley said, taking a sip from her own cup. She snapped her fingers to light the fireplace.

“I’m sorry! I’m nervous,” Aziraphale admitted. He couldn’t stop staring at his hands. What was Crowley going to do? Was Aziraphale going to see her naked?

Thoughts of _beggar's wallets_ flitted through Aziraphale's mind.

"What are you nervous about?" Crowley said, not turning to face him. She kept her gaze on her wine glass as she tilted it back and forth, letting the firelight turn the liquid to deep ruby.

"Everything," Aziraphale confessed. "I keep thinking about what I have to do and it makes me feel sick. How do humans do this?" he said forlornly.

"Does what we did the other day make you feel sick?" Crowley asked. She was still staring at the fire, her jaw tight.

"No!" Aziraphale rushed to assure her. "That's what makes me think you're right. It's only the theory that makes me uncomfortable. In practice is another thing entirely."

"But you're nervous now?" Crowley asked, finally turning her face to him. He wished she'd take off her glasses like she had the other day.

"I can't help it," Aziraphale said petulantly.

Crowley hummed and sank down onto the chaise next to him, reclining against the back. One booted foot came up to rest beside Aziraphale's thigh.

“Perhaps if we ease into it. A demonstration instead of an interactive activity?” Crowley offered and then she tugged her skirts up over her spread legs and Aziraphale's mouth went dry at the sight of her knees. Her thighs. Oh, dear lord.

Crowley's skirt was pooled around her waist. All Aziraphale could see was the bottom of her corset and her drawers. She reached between her legs and parted the fabric of her split-legged knickers. Aziraphale saw a flash of bright ginger hair and shining pink flesh before her fingers covered the opening. Her head fell back against the chaise.

She was rubbing over herself in small circular motions that hypnotized Aziraphale. He leaned in closer to watch.

"I can't see," he breathed and Crowley snapped her fingers and there was no longer fabric obscuring Aziraphale's view.

He was mesmerized by her long, lean pale legs, the harsh dip between her pelvis and the tendon of her leg so evident in the shadows cast by the fire. She was spreading her folds with her hand and using her middle finger to draw languorous circles around a nub of flesh nestled just beneath her red, coarse curls.

Crowley moved her fingers faster and moaned.

Unbidden, Aziraphale lifted his hand and reached out, freezing when he realized what he was doing. Crowley’s eyes opened, fixing him with a half lidded stare. She moved her hand out of the way, slipping it behind her head. “You can touch. If you like.”

Aziraphale suddenly felt as if he couldn’t swallow. What had he been thinking? That this would disgust him? Apparently not. His response was entirely the opposite. He felt a desperate need heating him from the inside, just like that day Crowley had kissed him.

He climbed off the chaise and fell to his knees before her, reaching out and brushing the backs of his knuckles over that pink skin, shocked to find it hot. And wet.

“Oh,” he breathed. Extending two fingers, he ran the pads of them from the nub Crowley had been touching down to her dripping entrance. His stomach was doing something unheard of. Something terrifying.

“Do you want to put them inside?” Crowley asked and when Aziraphale looked up at her, her chest was heaving under her bodice. Need flashed through Aziraphale. He wanted to see her without all that fabric. What would she look like in only her corset? Without it?

Aziraphale hesitated, unable to stop tracing the smooth texture under his fingers. When he moved his fingers just so, the skin jumped under his hand. “Would that—would that be alright?”

Crowley hummed and wrapped her hand around Aziraphale’s wrist, delicate fingers moving over the back of his hand, folding back his fingers until only his pointer and middle finger were extended. She guided his hand back to her sex. “Some women only like one. But I like two.”

Aziraphale nodded dumbly, watching as his fingers sank inside Crowley. If he thought she was warm on the outside, he’d obviously had nothing to compare it to. He stared at his hand. His stomach was squirming again. It was...it was…

Erotic.

“What next?”

“Move them in and out,” Crowley said in a shaking voice. “Fuck me with them.”

Crowley was slick enough that Aziraphale’s hand moved easily, shining fingers drawing out and pressing back in. A small pool of her arousal was forming underneath her arse on the chaise. Aziraphale had the strangest urge to lap it up, to take that flavor in his mouth. The scent was so heady, like clean ocean air. Salt and something musky.

The desire was so strong that it spilled from Aziraphale’s mouth, “Can I taste? Is that—”

“Fuck, yes,” Crowley breathed and her hips twitched.

It was then that Aziraphale realized his penis was fully erect.

He didn’t have enough focus to consider that response. He was too busy leaning forward even more, breathing deep as he continued to thrust his fingers in and out of Crowley. Tentatively, Aziraphale flicked his tongue over that nub that Crowley seemed to like to touch and was rewarded by a sharp hiss and another jerk of thin hips. The taste of salt bloomed in his mouth.

He humphed in surprise and decided he wanted more. He licked around his fingers, gathering Crowley’s slick in his mouth as his knuckles pressed into his own face. Crowley was squirming now and that struck Aziraphale as very good.

Crowley’s back arched and she gasped, “When you...put your fingers inside...curl them...up.”

Aziraphale paused and pulled back, retracting his hand which earned him a long, low whine from Crowley. Breathing hard, Crowley held up her hand, palm up and curled her forefingers into a hook.

“Oh, I see,” Aziraphale said, pushing two fingers back inside Crowley and mimicking the gesture. “Like this?”

“Oh, shit,” Crowley said, head slamming into the back of the chaise.

Aziraphale started to move his hand faster, following the push and pull of Crowley's body. He knew vaguely about orgasms. They’d been in the textbooks. He desperately wanted to see Crowley have one.

"Your thumb. On my clit," Crowley said between undulations of her body. She seemed to be seeking something out, needing more.

"With the hand I have inside you or…"

"Either! Either. Just…"

Using his other hand, Aziraphale rubbed over Crowley's clit in the same circular motions Crowley had shown him. He kept the pace with the fingers inside her, stroking her.

The bundle of flesh under Aziraphale’s touch was hard and swollen. He gathered some of Crowley's natural slick and used it to smooth the movements of his thumb.

"Faster," Crowley said and when Aziraphale looked at her, her glasses were crooked and her eyes were screwed tight. She was biting her lip.

Aziraphale's penis did something it had never done before. It pulsed in his trousers as a shiver ran down his spine.

“Fuck, angel, I’m gonna—”

Aziraphale felt an intense fluttering around his fingers as Crowley’s hips stuttered and she let out a long shuddering gasp that turned into a long series of curse words. For a moment she was doing nothing but fucking herself on Aziraphale’s fingers and then she hissed and pulled away. “Too much,” she said.

Aziraphale retreated immediately. He was breathing hard. And certainly not from the effort of...whatever that was.

He stood and Crowley’s eyes dropped to his very obvious arousal. “Do you want me to…”

Aziraphale waved her off absently. “No. I’m fine thank you. I’m sure it will pass.”

Crowley sucked on her teeth and then shrugged. “Feel a bit more comfortable with the territory?” Crowley asked, gesturing at herself. She was still sopping and Aziraphale felt that same desire to lick up every drop.

_Oh dear._

“Perhaps I could...” Aziraphale said, licking his lips. “Try it with my mouth again?”

Crowley sucked in a breath and then smirked. It looked a bit more performative than usual. Aziraphale wasn’t exactly sure what that meant.

“Be my guest,” she said, spreading her legs wider.

Aziraphale dropped to his knees once more, hands coming to rest on Crowley’s inner thighs. She was so small that they fit in his palms almost perfectly. He traced his thumbs over the sharp tendon of her thighs and then used them to spread her open.

Her pubic hair was flame red, so much lighter than the crimson curls on her head. It was strange and yet somehow fitting.

“Is there anything I should know?” Aziraphale asked, mindlessly rubbing circles with his thumbs as he looked up at Crowley.

“No,” she said, voice oddly high pitched. “Just give it a try. I’ll tell you.”

Aziraphale leaned forward and teased the nub of skin at the apex of her sex with his tongue. Crowley’s hips bucked so Aziraphale marked that down as good.

He moved down and traced her entrance. She tasted strongest there and Aziraphale chased the unique flavor, pressing his tongue inside.

“Holy fucking shit,” Crowley hissed. He supposed the same principles of hands also applied to mouths so he pushed his tongue in and out, liking the way Crowley’s inner muscles fluttered in response. Feeling emboldened, he ran the flat of his tongue over her in a long lick. She cried out and sank her hands into his hair.

“Can I show you—” she broke off on a gasp when Aziraphale traced his tongue over her once more.

Tightening her hand in his hair, she guided him up so his lips were pressed to her clitoris. “Suck on it. Lightly.”

Aziraphale did and Crowley whimpered. “A bit more.”

Aziraphale increased the pressure as he pushed his hands harder into Crowley’s thighs.

Crowley’s hands fell away. “You can—you can do the tongue things again. Just—that too.”

Aziraphale hummed against her sex and went back to licking over her folds. He wanted to trace every inch of her, find the spots that made her shake.

He found that sucking lightly and scraping his teeth carefully over her clitoris had her falling apart under his mouth.

“Angel,” she gasped. “Aziraphale. Fuck. Yes, yes.”

Her muscles locked under his hands and she bucked against his face. He sucked her through it, smoothing his hands down her thighs as if he were calming a wild animal.

Finally, she jerked away and Aziraphale sat back on his haunches, wiping the wetness from his chin.

"Was that sufficient?" he asked and Crowley’s eyes fluttered open.

"Sufficient? Angel, fuck. More than."

Her breathless voice had Aziraphale aching in his trousers.

"Come up here," she said, tugging at his shoulders. "Kiss me."

"Shouldn't I clean up or—"

"No," Crowley said, humming pleasantly when Aziraphale let her lead him up onto the chaise. She tugged off her glasses and tossed them aside carelessly. "You can't just give someone two orgasms and _not_ kiss them. Against the rules."

"Rules?" Aziraphale asked, intrigued.

But Crowley just laughed, circled her hand around his nape and pulled him down into a messy kiss. She moaned and slipped her tongue into his mouth, dragging him down atop the chaise so that he was laid out atop her partially nude body.

She moaned and writhed beneath him, rocking her hips up against one of his thighs until his trouser leg was soaked. It should have been disturbing—they were perfectly good trousers!—but it only made Aziraphale's penis even harder. Impossibly so.

Crowley pushed him back a few inches, hands fisted in his waistcoat.

"I'm going to suck you," she said fiercely and through some sort of magic—demonic, surely— Aziraphale was on his back and Crowley was on top of him.

She sat back and tugged open his buttons. Aziraphale briefly mourned the loss of her kisses, but then she was pushing the escaped tendrils of hair from her face before taking his cock in her hand.

His fingers sank into the back of the chaise and he gasped in pleasure.

"Did you touch yourself, angel?" Crowley asked, voice low and sultry and entirely unfair.

"Ye-yes," Aziraphale gasped. Crowley moved her hand lazily up and down, biting her lower lip as she looked at him through half-lidded eyes.

"What did you think about to get yourself off? Lady Amelia?" Crowley asked leaning over him as she continued to work her hand. Her voice was so low it was almost a hiss.

Aziraphale shook his head. "No. Just...this."

"This?" Crowley asked, all theatrical innocence as she moved her hand faster.

Aziraphale's hips moved without his permission. He began to feel the tightening sensation he now knew preceded his orgasm.

"Yes. Your hand," Aziraphale said between moans.

Crowley smirked, obviously pleased, and withdrew her hand entirely. Aziraphale whined.

But then she replaced her hand with her mouth and all semblance of complaint fled Aziraphale's mind.

It was warm and wet and Crowley's tongue was doing something unbearable. He looked down. The sight of Crowley's mouth stretched around him had arousal spiking in his belly. Her eyes were shut, lashes spread prettily over her cheeks. He reached down and sank his hand into her hair, just to be able to hold her.

She hummed in apparent approval but it was suddenly too much.

"Crowley, oh," Aziraphale gasped. "I'm going to come. Please."

Crowley continued to suck him and Aziraphale let go of the final threads of his restraint as his orgasm roared through him. Crowley worked him through it and when he was finally done shaking, she sat back and wiped the corners of her mouth, the gesture strangely polite.

She seemed too far away and Aziraphale couldn’t stop himself from reaching out. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her against his chest. She let a surprised _oof_ but settled quickly.

“You like that, then?” she asked as Aziraphale squeezed her tight. He had this feeling in his chest like he couldn’t get close enough. Like no matter what he did, that far away feeling couldn’t possibly fade.

“Very much,” Aziraphale admitted into her hair.

They lingered like that for a moment, but then Crowley was pulling back, sitting up. She snapped her fingers and suddenly she was immaculate, hair perfect, dress unwrinkled.

“Fair warning, Lady Amelia might not go for the cocksucking. Not exactly ladylike,” Crowley said, emphasizing the last word with a sneer.

The mention of Amelia was like a shock of ice water, the pleasant warmth in his muscles disappearing entirely. Aziraphale sat up. “Well,” he stammered. “I suppose there’s something to be said for a thorough education regardless.”

Crowley cocked her head, face unreadable. A smile spread slowly over her face, mischievous and pleased. “That’s what I thought you’d say, angel.”

Aziraphale fidgeted, strangely uncomfortable under her scrutiny. “I do endeavor to be a good pupil.”

Crowley snorted. “Right. Next lesson. Taking off a woman’s clothes.”

Aziraphale's heart thumped painfully. He supposed that had also been on the list.


	3. Lesson Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just porn. lots of porn.
> 
> beta'ed by poetic_nonsense
> 
> CW: this chapter contains rimming, PIV sex, and creampie eating. I know some folks are squicked by those things so proceed with care as needed.

Aziraphale begged off. He shouldn’t have. He should have gotten the entirety of the curriculum out of the way, but he couldn’t help it. He was overwhelmed.

After leaving Crowley rather surprised in her drawing room, Aziraphale returned to his bookshop and decided he wasn’t going to think about it. He had cataloging to do.

He spent the better part of the week working. He sent Amelia a note to see if she’d like to take a (chaperoned) stroll in the park and felt rather good about taking steps forward.

Then he received a note from Crowley.

_Friday. 7. Clothing removal._

He didn’t reply but, of course, when Friday came, he went to her flat anyway.

* * *

Crowley opened the door to him with a small smirk, bypassing a greeting just to lead him inside and to her bedroom, a black siren gliding through the halls. Aziraphale wondered if this was what it was like to fall prey to one of her temptations. He’d never had a reason to think about it before. It wasn’t as if Crowley ever tried to tempt him.

When they stepped into her bedroom, Aziraphale was hardly surprised to see it decorated in cool blacks, shot through with red and gray.

Crowley paused at her dressing table and removed her sunglasses.

She was in black and gray tailormades. Her suit jacket undone revealing her gray shirt waist and a black and red ribbon tied about her neck. She slipped off her glasses and Aziraphales heart seized in his chest. She was lovely, like a picture.

Aziraphale couldn’t linger on the thought. He was here for a lesson and they should get started.

"Should you be in something else? Aziraphale asked. "I doubt I'll be undoing lady Amelia's shirtwaist. I don't know if she even owns one."

Crowley ground her teeth, the muscles in her face flexing as she snapped her fingers, suddenly in a black and gray gown befitting a lady. It dipped low beneath her collarbones.

Their eyes locked and Aziraphale’s heart started to race. He was terribly nervous. Women's clothes seemed so finicky.

"Come kiss me," Crowley said with a short wave that Aziraphale followed without thinking.

Aziraphale gathered her gently against him at first, but Crowley’s hands were in his hair and she was slipping her tongue into his mouth. She rolled her body against his and moaned wantonly.

"Fuck, angel, youre a fast study," she gasped when Aziraphale started to kiss her neck the way she said she liked. "There are buttons on the back of my dress. Undo them."

Aziraphale faltered for a moment and pulled back. Crowley misjudged the gesture as an attempt to kiss her on the mouth again and took his kiss enthusiastically.

Aziraphale’s nerves began to slip away. What was there to worry about when Crowley's kisses were so sweet?

She guided his hands to her back until his fingers found the trail of cloth covered buttons. There were so many.

Finally, after releasing three buttons, Aziraphale groaned and pulled away. "Turn around," he demanded.

Crowley smirked. "Trouble with buttons, angel?"

"Yes," Aziraphale snapped, disgruntled by her tone. "I'll manage better if I can see them."

"You undoing my buttons like a maid isn't very sexy, Aziraphale," Crowley pointed out.

Aziraphale tipped his chin back. Well then. "That's what you think. Let me try."

Crowley arched a brow at him but turned away. "Alright. Go ahead, but I'll have you know —"

Crowley let out a long breath when Aziraphale brushed his fingers over the back of her neck, scraping his nails lightly over her skin.

He pressed a short kiss behind her ear. What would be sensual for this? Aziraphale presumed slow, with lots of lingering touches.

He traced his finger down the small portion of exposed skin in front of him. Crowley’s back arched like a cat and Aziraphale sought out the buttons.

With each button undone, he pressed another kiss to Crowley’s shoulders and back, a trail of kisses down her spine. She gasped and shuddered and all the while Aziraphale felt as if he had won a prize.

When he finally pushed the dress off her shoulders, only to see it pool around her feet, Aziraphale was transfixed. Crowley’s long black corset ended just at her hips, smoothing her thin figure into something uniquely alluring. Aziraphale laid a flat palm against her side, feeling the unforgiving bones of the corset.

"Isn’t this uncomfortable?"

Crowley shrugged. "Not really. Good for the posture actually."

Aziraphale snorted and shook his head, almost fond. "Since when do you care about posture?"

"I’m a respectable lady, Aziraphale," Crowley pointed out, drawing out the words in lilting tones.

"Of course you are, dear. How do I take it off?" Aziraphale asked, already playing with the laces in front of him. He was beginning to feel a bit light-headed at the prospect of removing Crowley’s corset. Would there be any softness beneath it?

"To the point then," Crowley murmured and then she gestured haphazardly over her shoulders. Aziraphale had to dodge a rather pointy elbow. "The laces. You need to undo them enough to loosen the thing. Then it goes over my head."

Aziraphale took a deep breath and got to work. There was something arousing in the push and pull of undoing the laces, how they began to breathe together. Tug, release.

Aziraphale loosened her corset fully and pulled it over her head, catching a glimpse of ginger hair in her underarm. It was the same shade as the thatch between her legs.

She was just in her combinations, the frilly lace of the top entirely incongruous with Crowley. Crowley was not frills and fine things. She was harsh and acerbic, a drop of lemon in the mouth.

"You have to undo the buttons in the back," Crowley told him. His fingers were strangely uncooperative as each button released, revealing even more skin. Crowley had freckles on her back. Constellations of them.

When all the buttons were undone, Crowley hunched her shoulders forward so the straps fell over her arms. Aziraphale pushed them down the rest of the way and then Crowley was bare before him. All Aziraphale wanted to do was touch so he ran his knuckles down the line of her spine. She was so spare he could see the notches of her vertebrae. He wanted to kiss each indentation. Trace the shadows with his mouth.

Crowley turned and looked at him.

Abruptly, Aziraphale realized this was the first time he had seen her naked and his stomach dropped to the floor.

Her collarbones were sharp, tapering up at her shoulders into a joint that pressed into the skin. Her torso was long and nearly straight with just the smallest dip just at her belly button before her hips flared slightly. Her breasts were small, barely more than a shadow, but tipped with rosy pink nipples.

He reached out and wrapped his hand around her side, moving his thumb back and forth over the flat plane of her stomach, feeling the muscles move. It made his own stomach wobble precariously and an ache start between his legs.

He wanted her.

“Is it strange if I say you look lovely?”

“Guh,” Crowley said.

“Can I touch you?” Aziraphale asked, heart hammering unusually against his ribs.

He skated his hand up, cupping Crowley’s breast between his thumb and forefinger. Her skin was warm and inordinately soft. She pressed into the contact and gasped.

"Move your thumb...over my nipple," Crowley said, grabbing his other hand to place it on her chest, a mirror of the first. "Softly."

Aziraphale brushed his thumbs over the pink skin, watching it harden and pucker. Feeling rather inspired by Crowley’s moans, Aziraphale wrapped his arms under her arse and lifted her up, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist. Her squeak of surprise turned into a pleased gasp when Aziraphale drew one nipple into his mouth, sucking lightly.

Her arms tightened about his neck as he flicked his tongue over the hardening nub. He could almost fit Crowley’s entire breast in his mouth but instead he pressed biting kisses around one and then the other, trying to learn what Crowley liked by the sounds she made. Every new one only stoked Aziraphale’s arousal. Why had he thought he could learn this from books? No description could have done this feeling justice.

Crowley slapped at his shoulder and moaned. "On the bed. For fuck’s sake. The bed."

Aziraphale dropped her on the bed and she bounced slightly. She reached up and removed several pins from her hair, releasing it down her shoulders and leaving Aziraphale with a view he'd never forget.

Crowley clothed was a formidable sight. Sleek lines, all black, impossible to look away from. Here, nude, looking at Aziraphale with wide serpentine eyes, she looked vulnerable. Reachable.

"May I kiss you again?" he asked and Crowley made a strange squeaking noise before nodding.

"Yes. Now get over here, you idiot."

Aziraphale kicked off his shoes and crawled into bed beside her, tilting her delicate jaw back with his fingers before kissing her softly.

Crowley’s lips parted easily under his. She clutched at his waistcoat when Aziraphale remembered his lessons and slipped his tongue into her mouth. It defied belief that Aziraphale had gone so long without kissing when it was so utterly glorious.

Crowley pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, crimson hair falling all about her face as she leaned down to kiss him again. It seemed kissing _could_ get better. Being able to run his hands over Crowley’s bare skin while they traded kisses was enough to make Aziraphale concerned he might orgasm in his trousers.

"You ready to fuck, angel?" Crowley said, the coarse words jerking Aziraphale out of his momentary distraction. He pulled away from Crowley and sat up, ready to remove his trousers but when he reached for his flies, he found the fabric wet.

He looked down at his groin and then back at Crowley who turned pink. "What? These parts get all wet when they're aroused. It's not my fault."

Aziraphale had the sudden urge to tackle her against the mattress, kiss down her body until she was riding his mouth like the other day in the drawing room. He took a deep breath.

Perhaps in a bit.

He moved to take off his clothes but Crowley’s hands were already on him, unbuttoning him swiftly. He was divested of his waistcoat and shirt before he could blink and then Crowley’s hands were slipping inside his union suit.

She made a noise deep in her chest, eyes half-lidded as she caressed his chest, pushing off his under clothes. She pressed her face into his neck and kissed it.

Oh that felt good. Was that why she liked it so much?

With Crowley biting kisses over his neck and chest, he hardly noticed her removing his trousers. It was only when he felt her body against his, the soft slide of her skin, that he realized they were both entirely nude.

He couldn't decide where to put his hands. Where to grasp Crowley's hips, her stomach, her back, her breasts. And oh, her hair. He hadn't seen it this long in millennia.

“Fuck, angel, you’re—fuck,” Crowley breathed, straddling him and running her hands down his torso. Her sex brushed the length of his cock and they both gasped.

"I'll be on top this time," Crowley said and under her instructional tone Aziraphale heard a wavering thread of something that made his heart cry out to pull her close. "So you can get used to it. Being in a cunt’s a bit different than a mouth. All clampy."

Aziraphale scowled at her choice of words but before he could retort, she'd taken his penis in her hand and was pressing it inside her as she sank down. She moaned and her hands collided with his chest as her shoulders rolled forward.

"Fuck."

Aziraphale was having difficulty keeping still. Crowley felt so good. Hot and tight and well...clampy. But she was clearly overwhelmed so he stayed still beneath her, hands rubbing over her thighs in an attempt to soothe even as pleasure rolled through his body in steady waves..

"My dear, are you alright?" he said after he caught his breath.

Crowley's eyes snapped open and she glared at him. "Yes," she snapped. "It's just been a while and you're...er...big."

Aziraphale frowned. "Is that a bad thing? Should I shrink—"

"Dont you fucking dare," Crowley hissed and then she rolled her hips and an acute silence stole over Aziraphale’s mind.

It was just the wet heat of her surrounding him, her soft skin under his hands, the pink flush on her neck and chest. Her curls fell about her shoulders, kissing the tops of her breasts as she moved and when she leaned forward those same curls curtained Aziraphale’s head and tickled his chest.

Crowley gasped sharply and the noise shook him from his catatonic state. His own pleasure was cresting too quickly. He wanted to make this good for Crowley but—

"What should I—oh, Crowley, that’s—ah."

Crowley didn't answer, just grabbed his hands and put them on her hips, far enough back that he could fill his palms with her arse. He squeezed it and rolled his hips up into her experimentally. She gasped. So he did it again even as it threatened to send him over the edge.

Crowley cursed and grabbed his hands, shoving them to the bed on either side of his head. "Can’t even stay still and fucking take it," she murmured.

She started to fuck him hard then. The room filled with the creaking of the bed and Crowley's moans of pleasure.

"Come on, angel," Crowley gasped, brushing her long hair back from her face as she continued to fuck him. "Come for me. I know you're close."

Even though Aziraphale had tried to keep his hands to himself, he simply couldn't any longer. He grasped Crowley's hips as he came, gasping and trying to figure out which way was up.

He was still shaking when Crowley climbed off of him, hand slipping between her legs to rub herself off. Even through the languid stretch of his muscles threatening to pull him under, he knew he couldn’t leave her wanting.

He rolled onto his stomach and moved her into the middle of the bed. She made a small sound of protest that died when Aziraphale buried his face in her vulva, licking along her entrance. His own semen was leaking from her and he lapped at it, the mingled flavor of their two bodies heady and arousing.

Crowley grabbed his hand and put it on her breast. "Play with my nipples," she said, squirming when he suckled on her clitoris.

Aziraphale obeyed, running his thumb over the hardening nub. Her skin was so soft there, like velvet under his palm.

Her hand slapped at the pillows and her back arched, forcing Aziraphale’s hands away. He spread them flat on her hips as he continued to suck, just like she had shown him, and then she was pulsing against his mouth and Crowley was shuddering, tugging weakly at his hair as her thighs trembled.

Aziraphale rested his head on her thigh, rubbing his nose along the fine fuzz of her leg hair as she caught her breath. He was happy, pleased by a job well done.

"Was that enough?" he asked when she finally looked at him. Some of her hair was stuck to the sweat on her forehead and her eyes were fully yellow. She looked wild and hungry and Aziraphale realized he still wanted her.

She nodded and then scowled. And then she shook her head. "Your cock should be able to get hard again. We should try missionary."

"Missionary?" Aziraphale said, sitting up on his haunches and frowning. That didn't sound very sexual.

Crowley rolled her eyes. "Yes, you on top. I can teach you about…" she hesitated. "Thrusting. Or something."

Aziraphale supposed Crowley knew better than he did and he followed her on his knees as she resettled herself against the pillows. “So you’ll be between my legs like you are,” she explained, nudging his hip with her foot so he was centered between her knees. Her sex was still on display and Aziraphale wanted to touch it again. It looked wet and warm and he wanted to feel Crowley around his fingers, hear her moans.

“Pay attention,” Crowley snapped and Aziraphale forced himself to focus on her face. “Are you hard yet?”

Aziraphale looked down at his penis which seemed only slightly interested in the situation. “Not entirely it seems.”

“Alright,” Crowley said with a shrug.

Then she sat up and took him into her mouth. He nearly fell over with surprise. Instead he clutched at Crowley’s head and let out a truly indecent moan. He felt wonderfully sensitive and Crowley’s mouth was so hot and -

Crowley pulled off with a pop and laid back down. “That should do it. Put it in, angel.”

After that little interlude, Aziraphale was fully hard. He moved closer to Crowley and leaned forward. He supposed it was sort of like inserting a key into a lock so he leaned his weight on one hand and used the other to guide himself inside her.

She tilted up her hips which was quite helpful, allowing him to slide inside in one motion. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until Crowley’s hand was on his cheek.

“Angel,” she said quietly and when he opened his eyes he felt as if the wind had been knocked from his lungs. Crowley was a vision, hair spread over the pillows, cheeks faintly pink, concern in her golden eyes. “Alright?”

“Yes, er,” he began, scrambling for some control. “It’s...tickety boo.”

Crowley scowled. “Do _not_ say tickety boo balls deep in my vagina.”

Chagrined, Aziraphale asked, “Well, what am I supposed to do? You said something about thrusting…”

Aziraphale moved his hips slightly and it felt so good he did it again involuntarily. Crowley gasped as she wrapped her arms around his back.

“Yes, that. Good. You can—go faster,” Crowley said with great effort.

Aziraphale increased the speed of his movements, realizing quickly that Crowley liked it best when he thrust hard and deep. But perhaps there was a better angle for that.

Wrapping one arm around Crowley’s waist, he lifted her hips. She moaned and arched her back.

“I think if you—” Aziraphale began, breaking off as another wave of pleasure crashed into him. “Wrap your legs around my back,” he said as he huffed with effort He was so focused on her that he had difficulty thinking, but he wanted it to be good. As wonderful as possible.

Crowley’s thighs tightened around him as she obeyed and...there.

With each stroke he had Crowley crying out, practically sobbing as he—well, there was no other word for it. As he fucked her.

“Do you like this?” he asked between panting breaths as he purposefully pressed deeper.

“Yes,” Crowley gasped. “Yes, angel. Faster. Please.”

Aziraphale did as she asked and then something astounding happened. He _felt_ her orgasm. Her whole body locked as her nails scraped over his arms. He felt a hot fluttering around his cock and it was too much. His orgasm was sudden and sharp, tingling down his back and making his toes curl.

Before he could really process what had happened, Crowley was pushing him onto his back and kissing him fiercely, murmuring things into his mouth he couldn’t hear through the blood still rushing in his ears.

He wanted more. He felt gluttonous. He wanted to gorge himself on Crowley until she was boneless.

When she pulled away to breathe, he scooted up the bed, propping himself up against the headboard before grasping Crowley’s waist. She was so thin his palms nearly circled her entirely. He tugged her back until her shoulder blades were resting on his lap, legs over his shoulders and pressed into the wall as her back pressed against his belly. Her pretty pink sex close enough to lick.

Crowley seemed a bit overwhelmed, not even protesting as Aziraphale moved her around. Aziraphale supposed she had just had two orgasms and now that Aziraphale had experienced a few himself he imagined that would be a bit disorienting.

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around her torso as he began to tease her folds with his tongue, lapping away the drops of their mingled spend. His stomach was contorting and burning and his penis was hard between his legs again but he felt high on the way Crowley was gasping his name so he didn't care.

At this angle, Aziraphale could see the shadow of Crowley's lovely rear, the way her sex faded into flat skin before revealing a tiny pucker of muscle. Aziraphale wondered if…

Pressing sucking kisses down her, Aziraphale lapped beneath her entrance and then further down, experimentally tongueing this new place.

Crowley's thighs shook around his ears as she pressed up into his face, crying out with renewed pleasure.

Aziraphale liked that very much so he buried his nose in the base of her vulva and licked over her. He dipped the tip of his tongue into the tight ring of muscle and Crowley nearly sobbed, her whole body shuddering.

"Please, angel, your hands," Crowley begged, casting out on the sheets with her hands.

Aziraphale wasn't entirely sure what she was asking for so he did what felt right. He held her up with the flat of one hand on her belly and brought the other to her sex, cupping her with his palm so he could slip two fingers inside her. She was still so slick and the movement of his hand produced an obscene wet noise that had Aziraphale aching again.

He continued to lick her open, two fingers fucking her as she bucked up into his face, thighs tight on either side of his face as he brought her off.

Aziraphale was strong. It was a remnant of his angelic stock. In his everyday life he didn't have much use for his strength or stamina. But as Crowley trembled in his arms, he thought he might have found something worthwhile.

Crowley's back arched and she cried out, vagina pulsing around Aziraphale's fingers, shockingly intense.

Her cry of pleasure turned into a shuddering breath that had Aziraphale pulling back so that he could turn her upright and scoop her into his lap and into his arms. Her body was pleasure-warm against his chest.

Aziraphale smoothed her hair back from where it was stuck to her sweat damp face and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth before he could overthink it.

"Where did you learn about rimming?" Crowley gasped, eyes still shut as Aziraphale tipped their foreheads together. His chest felt tight. He wanted to kiss her and kiss her and…

"Is that what that’s called?" Aziraphale asked instead of giving in to the strange clamoring urge. "I simply thought you might like it. And if you didn’t, I knew you'd stop me."

"Good instincts, angel. Good instincts,” Crowley said, letting her head fall forward and rest on his shoulder.

Aziraphale ran his hands over her back. Her skin was so terribly soft.

"We should fuck again," Crowley said suddenly, hands on his hips and seeking between his legs. She was clearly in no fit state so Aziraphale grabbed her wrists and pushed them away.

"Some other time. I think I've worn you out, my dear," Aziraphale said, lifting Crowley out of his lap so he could lay her out against the pillows.

Crowley scowled and slapped at his arms. "You can't just manhandle me."

"Oh, really? Not five minutes ago I'm fairly certain you loved it," Aziraphale said with a smirk just to see the way Crowley turned red.

She snatched the blankets with a disgruntled growl and pulled them over her naked body.

Moments later, she let out a pathetic, exhausted groan from under the blankets. Aziraphale shook his head fondly as he gathered his clothes.

“I’ll see you again soon, my dear,” Aziraphale said, ignoring the strange impulse he had to climb into bed beside her, hold her close. It must be some post-coital function of the body that craved intimacy.

Crowley mumbled something unintelligible, clearly half-asleep. Aziraphale left her to it, drifting out of her house feeling disconcerted and more than a little confused.


	4. Lesson Oops We Stopped Counting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by poetic_nonsense! thank you for supporting me while i spiraled into self doubt
> 
> CWs for this chapter: graphic sex repulsion, aziraphale/other (minor i.e. kissing and groping which could be considered dubcon because aziraphale is doing it for assignment)
> 
> Thank you for indulging me! Now indulge yourself! <3

Aziraphale’s existence took a strange turn.

During the day he would do his best to court Lady Amelia, sending polite notes and invitations as often as he could without seeming indecorous. And in the evenings he went to Crowley’s where they had intercourse in increasingly surprising places. Crowley’s sunroom. The floor of her study. Against the front door.

Aziraphale found the fastest way to bring her to climax was kissing her neck while penetrating her with two fingers. Though he prefered the sensation of her coming under his tongue.

And, oh, the sheer pleasure of being inside her was enough to make his cock stir even when he was alone and supposed to be focusing on translations or cataloguing.

It was strange enough that he’d started to think about his penis as a cock at all. But that’s what Crowley called it.

When he walked into her flat and she would drop to her knees and say, “I want to suck your cock.”

Or when they accidentally ended up kissing desperately against Crowley’s desk when Aziraphale had been about to leave. “Put your cock in me.”

Or even now, seated on chair in her dining room with Crowley in his lap, riding him and saying, “Fuck, your cock feels good.”

Aziraphale had nothing to say to that so he kissed her neck, biting her collarbone and leaving marks he knew she would miracle away. A little part of him wished she wouldn’t. He sort of liked the idea that, under all that buttoned up fabric she had to wear, there could be a mark on Crowley’s body that proved they had done this.

He pushed the thought away. It was impossible. This was educational. Not some sort of staking of a claim.

He turned his attention to Crowley. She was only in her combinations, dress and corset discarded on the floor of the dining room where Aziraphale had proudly removed it. As she moved her hips, Aziraphale undid the buttons at her back, pushing down the fabric so he could kiss her breasts the way she liked. She was so warm and soft and felt so good on top of him. Her fingers dug into her shoulders and she swore, huffing little gasps of pleasure, escalating in pitch. She was about to come.

And when she did, she shook on top of him, collapsing against his chest and murmuring something he couldn’t hear.

“You didn’t come did you?” Crowley asked when she was finally breathing evenly.

“Erm...no,” Aziraphale said. He’d been a bit distracted throughout the proceedings, caught up in worries as much as the feel of Crowley’s warm chest under his mouth.

Crowley sat back and ground down on him, tightening her inner muscles and making him gasp. She grinned at what must have been a ridiculous look on his face. “Do you want to fuck my arse?”

Aziraphale blinked a few times. “Would you—I mean, would you like that?”

Crowley climbed off of him and shucked off her combinations, gloriously naked in front of him. “I wouldn’t suggest something I _dislike_.”

Crowley snapped her fingers and a jar of petroleum jelly appeared on the dining room table. She placed her elbows on the shined walnut surface, presenting her bum to him. It was a tiny little thing and Aziraphale had a very sudden urge to fill his hands with it.

He was still mostly dressed—Crowley had been fairly voracious in her attempts to get into his trousers and he’d been awfully distracted trying to take off her dress—so he removed his waistcoat and undid his braces, letting his trousers fall to the floor where he kicked them off along with his shoes.

Crowley was starting to wriggle against the table as she made a noise of disapproval. “What are you doing back there?”

“Somebody decided to have me fully clothed and I was remedying the situation,” Aziraphale said primly and Crowley snorted.

“Fine, whatever. Get over here.”

Aziraphale drew up close behind her and brushed the back of his knuckles over the swell of her bum. She wriggled some more.

“What do I do? Do I just...stick my cock in?” Aziraphale asked, beginning to knead Crowley’s buttocks with his hands. It was the only soft part of her and Aziraphale was entranced by it.

Crowley rose up on her elbows and looked back at him incredulously. “Did you just say cock?”

“You say cock!” Aziraphale protested, erection losing some of its verve.

“Yes but I thought it would be ‘penis this’ and ‘penis that’ with you for the rest of eter—” Crowley broke off and turned to face the table, the muscles in her back flexing. “Until we’re done with these lessons.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath. Done with the lessons.

"Put jelly on your fingers, " Crowley said firmly, pushing her bum against Aziraphale’s groin and making his cock twitch.

Aziraphale obeyed and then awaited further instruction.

"You'll start with one finger," Crowley said. "And then move up to two. You can just stick your cock in but it burns like the dickens. It's better to sort of...warm up."

"Warm up," Aziraphale echoed absentmindedly. He rubbed his clean hand down Crowley's spine, admiring her pale skin and the sight of her freckles. Her shoulderblades rose in elegant wings from her back. Aziraphale wanted to kiss them.

So he leaned over her and did. She rolled her neck and sighed. "Oh, that's good."

He smiled against her skin and continued to kiss down her back. His cock was fully hard again, recovered from his earlier distractions. He wanted Crowley terribly, but first, he would do as she said.

He traced her with his slick fingers, feeling out this new area before pressing his middle finger inside of her.

She gasped and lurched onto the table. "Fuck. I forgot how that feels."

Aziraphale froze. "Bad? Do you want me to stop?"

Crowley shook her head vehemently, coppery hair shifting over her shoulders. She reached across the expanse of the table and the thin muscles of her biceps flexed as she gripped the opposite edge. "No. It's good. So good."

Aziraphale moved his finger in and out, following some of the principles he had learned about Crowley's vagina. This felt similar inside though the tight ring of muscle was new. It made his cock ache to think about being inside it. It would hold him so beautifully. Draw out every drop of pleasure.

His cock twitched and he pressed his free hand against it, moaning at the feel of Crowley's slick still dripping off of his length.

"Second finger," Crowley said, pushing back against his hand.

"Are you certain?" Aziraphale asked, slowing his hand. "It feels awfully tight."

"Who is the expert here?" Crowley retorted, looking over her shoulder. Her face was gloriously flushed. "Two fingers," she said again, more forcefully.

Aziraphale frowned and obeyed, astounded when another finger slipped inside easily. Crowley let out a long moan that made Aziraphales stomach clench with want. He wanted her to make that sound while he was inside her.

Crowley moaned and writhed and then she was demanding his cock. “Put some jelly on it first,” she gasped.

Aziraphale slicked himself, hands sticky and slippery as he guided himself inside her. Oh, dear.

“Fuck,” Aziraphale said, the expletive punched out of him. “That’s—”

“Ngggg,” Crowley said, bearing down on him and forcing him deeper, stopping only when his testicles came to rest against her perineum. “Fucking hell,” she gasped, sounding pained.

“Do you need—”

“Hold on a second,” she said, gripping the table. The muscles in her back rippled along the length of her knobbed spine. A work of art, Aziraphale thought wildly as desire and pleasure spun through him, wrapping around him and pulling him closer to Crowley. How could it feel like this? Inside her and yet not enough?

Crowley began to rock her hips, the push and pull nearly enough to make Aziraphale’s eyes roll back in his head. He gripped her hips with slick fingers and met her movement for movement. Not enough.

His hands slipped on her hips as he tried to still her movements. “Please, can I—” he had to suck in a breath. “Turn over. I want to see you.”

Crowley whined but let him pull away. She rolled over onto her back and oh, what a sight. Her chest was flushed, nipples hard. The concave valley of her stomach casting her hips in sharp relief.

Aziraphale placed his hand on her abdomen in awe, jelly slick fingers leaving shine trails in their wake. Crowley wriggled under his attention. “Will you fuck me already?”

Aziraphale swallowed, grabbed her hips and tugged her to the edge of the table. Her squeak of surprise turned into a long moan—guttural and heart shattering—as Aziraphale pressed back inside her, tipping her hips up and hauling her legs over his shoulders.

“Ah—that’s—that’s good. Really good,” Crowley said between short gasps. Pleased—inordinately pleased—Aziraphale snapped his hips harder just as Crowley reached between her legs and started working over her clit. Her back arched sharply, the sound of her cries mingling with a sharp creak and then he was falling. They were falling as the table collapsed beneath them.

Aziraphale gasped, ready to pull away as they collided with the floor. Crowley grunted in pain, her thighs knocking into Aziraphale’s chest, but then she was wrapping her legs around him, baring her teeth and growling, “Don’t you dare stop.”

So he didn’t. The bruised feeling in his chest combined with the strain in his muscles only pushed him higher. Crowley was swearing and writhing and then her muscles locked, eyes screwed shut as she cried out. It was so much, too much, the feeling in Aziraphale’s heart just as overwhelming as the sensations in his cock and he came, spilling inside her.

Crowley rose up on one arm and used the other to pull him down into a desperate kiss, a messy slide of tongues that made Aziraphale’s stomach swoop strangely.

He pulled out with an obscene slick sound and rolled onto his back, the detritus of the table digging into his skin. He turned his head to look at Crowley. She was staring at the ceiling, chest heaving. A bolt of arousal shot through him. How could he still want her after finding his release? The needy thing in his chest was crying out for him to hold her. He tried to ignore it.

“Was that alright?” Aziraphale asked when he could finally breathe again.

“Alright?” Crowley asked incredulously. “I haven’t come that hard in...ever.”

She turned her head to look at him and smiled. Her eyes crinkled at the corners and Aziraphale felt…

“Crowley, I—”

Aziraphale didn’t know what to say.

Crowley’s smile fell, mouth drooping into a more familiar thin line as her eyebrows drew together. “What is it?”

“I—” he tried to find the words, but he didn’t know their shape. They were barely formed threads on the edges of his mind and, in his blissed out state, he couldn’t grasp them. “I’m not sure I can do this.”

Crowley’s expression closed off. Her jaw ticked. She sat up abruptly and grabbed her combinations from the ground, slipping them over her legs, not looking at him. “And what is _this_?”

Aziraphale realized Crowley must think he meant their lessons and his heart dropped. He sat up and rushed to explain himself. “Not—no, not this! I mean...with Lady Amelia.”

Crowley’s lacy underthings were still undone in the back, the sides of her combinations splayed open so Aziraphale could still see the delicate lines of her shoulder blades. They rolled back and then Crowley tucked her legs up into her chest as she turned to face him. She was so small. Aziraphale wanted to hold her.

“It’s the same principles, angel,” Crowley said, still curled in on herself and not looking him in the eye. “I’m sure you can manage it.”

It wasn’t said with the usual snark Aziraphale expected and that made his heart hurt.

They sat in silence for a moment. Crowley broke it. “I suppose that’s it then,” she said.

Aziraphale swallowed. Why wouldn’t she look at him?

“You know what you need to know. Best get on with it, yeah?” Crowley said, sliding her tongue over her teeth as she unfurled her body and rose to her feet.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, disappointment rolling through him as he stood as well. His chest hurt and so did his stomach. He felt as if he needed to lie down. He never laid down. Not unless it was next to Crowley.

“Perhaps we should,” Aziraphale began, casting about for something to make Crowley stop looking like that. Like she didn’t care. “Perhaps we should run through it.”

Crowley snapped her fingers and she was dressed. It was those pretty charcoal gray tailormades with the black velvet detail that made Aziraphale want to run his hands over her stomach just to feel the disparate textures.

“Run through it,” she repeated dubiously.

“I just think I’d feel more comfortable if we practiced,” Aziraphale said, unable to keep a note of pleading from his voice.

Crowley stared at him and then her shoulders slumped. “Fine. Yeah. What are you thinking? A little playacting? Teach you how to flirt?”

“Ye-yes. Something like that,” Aziraphale said, not wanting to admit that what he wanted was an excuse to do this again. To be close to Crowley. “We could do it at my shop. Since that’s probably where I’ll—”

“Fuck her?” Crowley asked, arching a brow.

Aziraphale was fairly certain he was about to vomit.

Crowley must have noticed something was wrong because the stern set to her shoulders faded.. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll help you. Friday?”

“Yes, I’ll, er, be around. Of course.”

“Terrific,” Crowley said with a smile that reminded Aziraphale of a grimace before turning on her heel to leave the room. “You can see yourself out, I’m sure.”

Aziraphale stared at the door long after she was gone, trying his best to understand why he felt so utterly wretched.

* * *

That week Aziraphale increased his encounters with Lady Amelia. They took chaperoned walks and even went to the milliner’s together. Aziraphale found he liked her company a great deal—but when he thought about kissing her or doing _any_ of the things he’d done with Crowley, he grew nauseated. It must be guilt gnawing at him. Amelia didn’t know this was a false wooing, that there were no real feelings there.

A horrid voice whispered that there were no real feelings between him and Crowley and yet he had been quite fond of their activities. Except, he supposed they wouldn’t be doing them anymore. There was no need.

Aziraphale wished that didn’t disappoint him quite so much.

* * *

On Friday, Crowley swanned into the bookshop in fashionably cut tailormades and a truly monstrous hat which she promptly tossed onto a table.

“How was your week, angel?” she asked without so much as a hello. “Make any headway with the lady fair?”

Aziraphale frowned and bustled out from behind the till to lock the door to the bookshop. “Things are going well, thank you. In fact, Amelia promised to stop by the shop on Monday, so this is well-timed.”

“Well-timed,” Crowley grumbled under her breath. Aziraphale wanted to kiss her. In a few short weeks he had gotten so used to being able to touch her whenever he pleased. It felt wrong now.

“Right,” she added, staring at Aziraphale like she might like to burn a hole in his head.

“Should we—” Aziraphale broke off, tongue thick in his mouth. He was going to get his hands on Crowley. Perhaps for a final time. “Should we get started then?”

“Sure,” Crowley said lazily, slipping off her glasses and setting them on a table. “What were you picturing?”

Aziraphale’s heart was racing. His mouth was dry. This was awful. "I suppose she'd be at the till” —Crowley obediently moved to the till— “and I'd say: I think you'd enjoy seeing the volumes I have in the back room. They’re quite rare."

Crowley stood up straight and said. "Mr. Fell, that sounds lovely."

Aziraphale tried not to scowl at her overly delicate affectation. Amelia was hardly like that.

Aziraphale's neck was sweating as he led Crowley into the back room. What was he doing?

He went to the far bookcase and pulled down his copy of Paradise Lost. He drew as close to Crowley as he dared and placed it in front of Crowley.

"You see this illustration here..." Aziraphale said, making sure their elbows brushed. His heart skipped a beat as Crowley's hand came to rest on the table and Aziraphale saw his chance.

He placed his hand atop hers.

She gasped, clearly playacting. Really. She was entirely useless. He was nervous enough without her mocking him. He scowled. "If you're not going to take this seriously, then nevermind—"

Crowley snatched his hand when he went to withdraw it. "No, I’ll—I’ll be serious."

Crowley rearranged their hands so they were back on the table. "Mr. Fell, I'm not sure what to say. I never thought you'd be so forward."

"Amelia," Aziraphale said, looking into Crowley's eyes and wishing it was her name in his mouth. "I've grown quite fond of you. Could I—could I kiss you?"

"Yes," Crowley breathed, eyes on Aziraphale's lips.

Aziraphale leaned in and brushed their mouths together delicately before cupping Crowley's cheek in his hand so he could deepen the kiss.

Crowley's hands looped around his neck as they traded long kisses. Eventually, Aziraphale began to kiss over her jaw, hands going to the buttons of her jacket. Once they released, Aziraphale slid his hands under the thick fabric and around Crowley’s waist. It had only been four days but he missed her so much.

Something was beating against his ribcage. An old feeling growing in weight as Crowley hummed against his mouth and began to lead the kiss. She was so vibrant, so assertive. So perfectly Crowley.

"Mr. Fell, I'm not sure—" Crowley broke off when Aziraphale laid a kiss on the juncture of her neck and collarbone. She tossed her head back and gasped.

"Amelia, let me make love to you," Aziraphale said, grasping Crowley's waist tighter. For some reason his heart was in his throat. Why did that feel so—He and Crowley didn’t make love. That wasn’t what this was about.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley gasped, low and needy, and reason abruptly left him. Whatever silly excuse he’d made fell away and it was just him and Crowley, kissing messily next to his worktop.

Unable to stand it, Aziraphale pushed her back against the door, pressing his knee between Crowley's legs the way she had taught him. Crowley ground down against it immediately, gasping and moaning. The sounds were fire in Aziraphale's blood and before he could stop himself he was hiking up her skirts and slipping his hand between her legs. She was already wet, the slit of her drawers nearly soaked through.

He wasn’t sure if it was supposed to go this far. Crowley had said walk through it. Walk through the seduction. Not the actual act. And yet, she was squirming under his hand, begging for more.

Aziraphale thought of that day in Crowley's bedroom, how she had looked on her black sheets. He'd been able to see every inch of her. He wished he could see it now. He wished he was making love to Crowley the way he wanted...not...not…

Aziraphale’s thoughts crashed to a halt just as he slipped a finger inside Crowley. She moaned and ground down against his hand. He struggled to recover as he pushed his fingers in and out.

Make love to Crowley. He wanted to—

Crowley kissed him suddenly and with her tongue in his mouth Aziraphale could think of little else beside her pleasure.

Her hands were on his trousers, undoing them with messy fingers.

Aziraphale took his hand away, urging Crowley to wrap her legs around him as he lifted her up and sank inside. Crowley's back was arched, her mouth was open and gasping as she clutched at Aziraphale’s back.

He rolled his hips experimentally and Crowley cried out again. Good.

Holding her tight, Aziraphale began to move faster. Her skirts were draped over his arms, her hands locked behind his head. Every move of his hips had her moaning until she sank her teeth into her own arm to stifle the noise.

"No," Aziraphale said between sounds of effort. "Let me hear you, darling."

The door rattled under their movement, creaking as Aziraphale snapped his hips harder. Something was building inside him. More intense than his orgasm and more terrifying.

Crowley began to shake in his arms, her muscles locking in that way they did as climax took her. It was too much. He loved her. He did. More than should be possible and yet there she was, shaking apart his arms and all he wanted was to do it again.

She cried out as she came and Aziraphale fucked her through it. Loved her. That wasn't—that couldn't be…

His own orgasm knocked his thoughts aside. He dropped his head to her shoulder as he shuddered, blood roaring in his ears.

Aziraphale slipped out and pulled back, letting Crowley's feet hit the floor as they separated.

He put himself back together and when he turned back to Crowley she was already buttoned up. "Crowley, I—"

Glasses appeared on Crowley's nose and she waved her hand. "Good job there. The door bit was rather inspired.”

Aziraphale gaped at her, heart shriveling up. He wanted to say it. He wanted to pull Crowley back against him and whisper it into her mouth a thousand times. Would she say it back?

Of course she would. He’d been a fool. This hadn’t been some charity. Crowley didn’t do charity. This had been—oh, Lord.

And Aziraphale still had to seduce Amelia. Trick her.

His stomach turned over. He couldn’t tell Crowley he loved her and then turn around and make love to Amelia. That would be despicable.

“Angel? Anybody home in there? You look like that time you ate a rotted melon,” Crowley said, cocking her head, a thin line of worry appearing between her eyebrows.

He couldn’t say it. Not right then. After. If Crowley would even want him after. Heart doing awful things in his chest, he forced himself to smile. “Yes, just, erm, caught up in planning!” he said and he knew it sounded false.

Crowley hesitated but didn’t press. “Well, alright. I suppose I’ll go?”

Aziraphale nodded gratefully. He needed to be alone. “Yes. Thank you for this. For your help.”

Crowley’s confusion melted a little and she gave him a genuine smile. “Anytime, angel.”

Aziraphale watched her go and when the bell to the door tinkled, he couldn't help it. Perhaps it was the stress of his situation or perhaps it had been coming on for years. He burst into tears.

* * *

Aziraphale passed the weekend in alternating states of grief and fear. He missed Crowley. He had to complete this assignment. But what if that disgusted Crowley? He didn’t want to be unfaithful but was there anything to be unfaithful to?

He hated it. He wished he’d never been given this awful, ridiculous assignment.

But when Monday came, Aziraphale didn’t have any choice but to complete it.

Amelia walked into the shop, conspicuously (and thankfully) unchaperoned. Remembering how it had worked with Crowley—and ignoring the stab of pain in his heart at the memory— Aziraphale managed to get Amelia in the back room.

“You see it’s a lovely edition,” Aziraphale said, trying not to feel too put off by Amelia’s proximity. He pointed at one of the illustrations and then Amelia put her hand on his. This was it. Aziraphale knew what he had to do. He leaned in and kissed her. It was easier than he thought. She sighed and slipped her tongue into his mouth. It reminded Aziraphale of a hot, thick worm and he forced himself through, meeting her movements with his own and trying not to grimace. Kissing like this had been so amazing with Crowley but overall, Aziraphale found it rather...disgusting.

He tightened his hands around her waist and she drew closer, dropping her hand between them to rub over his—

“Oh,” she said, looking down at where he was distinctly flaccid.

"I am so sorry," he said immediately even though he was relieved to no longer have her tongue anywhere near his. He didn’t exactly like her hand on his trousers either. It was uncomfortably hot. How had he ever enjoyed this?

Amelia looked between his crotch and his face and then she laughed. She wrinkled her nose in good humor and said, “Not interested then?”

“I’m not—let’s try again,” he said, fear of ruining his assignment forcing him to continue through the very real nausea rising inside him. “I’ve just been...stressed.”

He reached out for her but she waved him off, still laughing to herself. “It’s probably for the best actually. You see…” Her joy faded slightly. “Well, I recently ended things with someone. We weren’t compatible the way I thought we were. And you...seemed like a good alternative.”

Aziraphale tried to piece that together as he realized, with dizzying relief, that his assignment was moot. He wouldn’t have to kiss her again. She had already left the gardener. No seduction required. "You're not angry with me?"

“No, not at all,” she said with a light touch to his hand. That touch was fine. It was nothing like how revolting it had been to have her touch his soft penis. Just the memory had him fighting a grimace. “I must admit I’m slightly disappointed. You are quite handsome.”

Aziraphale was too flustered to respond to the compliment. Still thinking about the awful sensation of her tongue in his mouth. An image of him licking her between her legs flashed in his mind and he nearly retched.

Had all his guilt turned his stomach to the idea of sex? This was even worse than reading that terrible literature.

Amelia kissed his cheek and Aziraphale told himself it was fine. “Perhaps we can stay friends? No more of this courting nonsense?”

“Yes, I’d like that I think,” Aziraphale said without really thinking as he showed her to the door. He needed to talk to Crowley.

Was sex entirely ruined? Was it like eating too much chocolate cake to the point where even looking at it turns your stomach?

Was sex like chocolate cake?

Aziraphale spent a rather large portion of the evening pondering the thought.

* * *

The next evening, when Aziraphale returned from his daily walk, Crowley was already sprawled on his couch, looking very comfortable indeed as she took another sip of wine. She looked wonderful in a long black skirt and red shirtwaist. The urge to kiss her rushed through him, followed by a flash of fear at the memory of Amelia’s wormy kiss. Would it be like that now?

"Toast to a successful seduction," Crowley said wryly, holding up her glass.

Aziraphale adjusted his bow tie in an effort to feel less nervous. His neck felt inordinately sweaty. "Successful? Yes. Seduction? No. It seems Lady Amelia has already moved on from the gardener to greener pastures. Pastures that are decidedly not me."

Crowley sat up slowly. "Oh, so you two didn't…"

"We did not," Aziraphale confirmed, suppressing a grimace at the thought of what could have happened.

She frowned. “I guess we had our lessons for nothing then. Sorry that you had to—”

“Excuse me!” Aziraphale interjected with a boldness that startled himself, heart rioting against his ribcage at Crowley’s implication. Could she really think—“I _had_ to do nothing. I chose to do those things with you and I enjoyed them, thank you very much.”

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. "Well that's...good?"

“I like to think it was very good.”

Crowley blushed and looked at her wine glass, a smile tugging at her mouth. “Yeah, I guess it was alright.”

Aziraphale needed to tell her. He needed to say how he felt and then they could talk about the wet worm thing and work through it. He hardly thought that Crowley would reject him if it turned out he didn’t like sex at all though she had been rather effusive in bed. What if sex was a requirement for a romantic relationship for her? He wouldn’t want her to be unfulfilled—

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted, too loud and completely unmodulated, the word love far too quiet compared to the prepositions. Oh well. At least he’d said it.

Crowley choked on the rather large gulp of wine she had taken and dropped her glass on the floor where it shattered. Aziraphale miracled it to rights as Crowley coughed.

“What?” she demanded when she could finally speak, voice hoarse.

“I’m in love with you?” Aziraphale repeated hesitantly.

“Fuck. You can’t just—” Crowley said, breaking off. “You can’t just _yell_ that at me in the middle of the day.”

“It’s evening, Crowley.”

Crowley scowled. “Not the point.”

“What is the point?” Aziraphale demanded.

Crowley made a series of inarticulate noises ranging from grunts to vowels and Aziraphale couldn’t stand before it all came out in a jumble that sounded quite like, “Ilubuto.”

Aziraphale was about to retort, say something cutting about declarations needing to be in comprehensible English, but Crowley was tugging on his wrist and saying, “Come kiss me, you idiot.”

Aziraphale dropped onto the couch next to her but kept her at arm’s length. “That might be an issue.”

“Might be an issue? Why might it be an issue?” Crowley asked, looking genuinely confused. Aziraphale was terribly afraid to ruin this. But he had to tell the truth. He wouldn’t force this. Not with Crowley.

He swallowed. “I’m a bit nervous.”

Crowley took off her glasses and fixed him with a disbelieving look. “You’re nervous. You’ve had your tongue in my arse and you’re nervous to kiss me?”

Aziraphale took her hand. “I love you.” He was relieved to note that it was much easier to say now that Crowley had (sort of) said it back. “But I kissed Lady Amelia yesterday”—Crowley grimaced in sympathy—“and it was awful. I hated it. I do believe kissing might have been repulsive this entire time and I didn’t notice.”

Crowley closed her eyes and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “You mean to tell me. That after all we’ve done—the bodily fluids we have shared—very gross things, mind you—you are worried you might find _kissing_ disgusting.”

“Her tongue felt like a worm!”

A laugh burst from Crowley, fond and disbelieving. “Let’s try it again. If you don’t like it, no more kissing.”

Aziraphale wanted to. He did. But he couldn’t push aside the flash of nerves at the thought Crowley would be disappointed if he wanted to stop. “And you’ll be alright. If there was no kissing? Ever?”

Crowley rolled her eyes. “Angel, there was about two thousand years of no kissing and I loved you all the way through it. We’ll figure it out.”

At that pronouncement, Aziraphale felt a very strong urge to do some kissing. So he did. It was chaste at first, Crowley letting him set the pace. His heart swelled. Crowley was so good to him. So sweet in her own way.

He cupped her cheek with his hand and tentatively deepened the kiss. He felt those same shocks of pleasure from their first shared kiss and from all the ones after. They coursed through him and settled hot in his belly. Oh.

Kissing Crowley was nothing like kissing Amelia. Just the touch of her mouth was enough for Aziraphale to grow hard in his trousers. He drew up on his knees on the sofa, ready to lay her down against it but she pulled back.

“Was that alright?” she asked, breathing hard, eyes searching his face.

“It was wonderful,” Aziraphale said, brushing his knuckles over her jaw. Her eyes fluttered shut. “I love you.”

Crowley smiled and it did nothing to stop how fast Aziraphale’s heart was racing. Her eyes opened, grin turning sharp and wicked. “You’re in for it now, angel. I’m not letting you leave this shop. We’re going to be here for days.”

Aziraphale blinked and found himself on his back, very very naked. Thankfully, Crowley was too. She straddled him, rising up on her knees to undo her hair. Aziraphale ran his hands down her sides, relishing the soft feel of her skin before he cupped her hip in his palm.

“You are so beautiful,” Aziraphale said and Crowley made one of her ridiculous snorting, spluttering noises that should have been irritating but that Aziraphale found adorable.

“Hush, you,” Crowley said, scooting down the couch as she leaned forward to kiss him. When she pulled back, she ran her hands down his chest, scraping her nails through his chest hair. “You’re stupidly gorgeous. It was torture not saying anything."

Finally, she rolled her hips down on his erection and Aziraphale gasped. "Your chest," she said breathlessly between pressing kisses to his sternum. "Thought I was going to wank to it for the next couple of centuries while you cavorted around with humans. Didn’t think you’d want me again. After everything."

Aziraphale grabbed her hips so he could guide her movements and she moaned, grinding against him.

“How could I want anyone but you?” Aziraphale asked without really thinking and Crowley froze, staring down at him and very much looking like she wasn’t breathing.

“Fuck. I love you so bloody much,” Crowley said, falling forward and kissing him again. Reaching between them, she took his cock in hand, sliding down on it with a gasp that Aziraphale drew from her mouth in deep kisses. It wasn’t disgusting. It was the opposite. Glorious. Wonderful. Incandescent.

They rocked together, much slower than any time they’d done this before. Aziraphale let Crowley set the pace, the way he knew she liked, holding her hips and rising to meet her as their kisses grew needy.

When Crowley came, she shook against him, nails digging into his shoulders as she cried out his name. The sight of her was enough to send Aziraphale over the edge. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, pleasure washing over him.

There was no rush now. They could do this whenever they pleased. No guise of lessons or temptations or anything like that.

Crowley fell against his chest and hummed sleepily when Aziraphale kissed her head. It was marvelous to be able to hold her. To know she wouldn’t leave. To love her just like this.

“I think I’ll miss our lessons,” Aziraphale admitted after some time, drawing circles between Crowley’s shoulder blades and relishing the rise and fall of gooseflesh in the wake of his touch. “I liked having you tell me what to do.”

He felt Crowley’s smirk against his chest.

"We don’t have to have lessons for me to tell you what to do.”

Oh. Well.

Aziraphale supposed Crowley was right. She often was.

Not that he would tell her that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for sticking with me <3 <3
> 
> Naniiebim drew a gorgeous NSFW rendition of the dining room scene that can be seen [here](https://twitter.com/RisqueNaniiebim/status/1253691187460014091?s=19)


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